


Eidola

by namuneulbo



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Asphyxiation, Cannibalism, Come Eating, Come Shot, Comeplay, Dubious Consent, Foot Fetish, Hallucinations, M/M, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-24
Updated: 2014-02-24
Packaged: 2018-01-13 15:50:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,603
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1232218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/namuneulbo/pseuds/namuneulbo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Will Graham is losing his grip on reality and he can no longer tell what is real and what isn't. Is this really Doctor Lecter?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eidola

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic I've completed in a long time and I hope you all enjoy it! It is kind of back and forth with reality and there are some interesting tongue moments. Please let me know if there are any spelling mistakes, I cannot read my own work properly T^T
> 
> If you'd like to see more of me or whatnot, feel free to hit me up on tumblr! My url is **hotmads** :)
> 
> **Eidola**  
>  plural noun  
> 1.an idealized person or thing.  
> 2.a specter or phantom

                The golden reeds surrounding Will Graham bent and swayed in the swirling breeze that wrapped his body in a cool damp blanket of mist.  He stared out uncomprehending until something shadowy caught his eye far enough back in the field to be blurred by the haze.  He squinted and raised a hand to block the sun's rays even though it too was rendered less glaring through the misty filter. The shadowy figure darted and simultaneously moved closer while staying just out of sight in the peripheries of Will's vision.

               The dark shape was somehow familiar to him and he wanted to get a better look at it. He wanted to start towards it, but the reeds ahead were so thick he could not see a viable path. He should turn and look behind him to see if there was a more roundabout path to take, but he didn't want to lose sight of the figure.

                So he stood. He squinted. The squint turned into a grimace as the wind whirled and whistled louder--or was that just the sound of his ears ringing? From a distance he heard a bark. Had he brought his dogs with him? He shut his eyes to try and clear his head.

 

* * *

 

                "I hope you don't mind veal. I have been craving blanquette de veau recently and I was already halfway through the stewing process when you showed up." Doctor Lecter's engaging tone seemed to trickle in to Will's brain.

                "Will? Are you alright?" These words snapped Will out of a stupor and his eyes immediately darted around the now familiar sight of the Doctor's kitchen, yet he could have sworn a moment ago that he was in Wolftrap.

                These lapses in time had been occurring more frequently over the past few months and Will clenched his fist nervously letting the slight flicker of pain register from his fingernails digging into his palms to prove to himself that this was not another lapse in reality. "How did I get here?" Will finally mumbled a reply to the Doctor's question.

                "Will, do you not remember driving here?" Hannibal asked gently. He left the large burnished pot simmering on the stove, emitting a stream of deliciously scented curling steam to come to Will's side and take hold of his wrist. He held it tight enough that Will could deduce the Doctor was taking his blood pressure as well as providing some grounding body contact. He wiped his free hand for good measure on the crisp white apron around his waist before cupping Will's cheek to hold his head steady and look into his eyes.

                If eyes are truly windows to the soul, Will's panes were spider-webbed with cracks from stones thrown by the likes of Freddie Lounds and dirtied with mistrust of those who sought to make their name understanding his unique 'gift'. Hannibal saw this damaged soul, this wounded psyche and felt something within him that urged him to do as so many do with run-down homes of exquisite and singular structural genius-- renovate, restore and inhabit.

                "Tell me the last thing you remember Will" Hannibal said calmly holding the other man's faltering gaze.

                "Gold. Wind. Something dark in the reeds. I can't see it." Will adumbrated.  "The air is wet with mist. I think...I thought I was in Wolftrap." The possibility that he had not actually been in the field was spreading through him as if that inhale of misty air was percolating coolly through him.

                "Repeat after me. My name is Will Graham. It is seven forty-eight pm and I am in Baltimore, Maryland." Doctor Lecter said unhurriedly. His clear enunciation and tempered voice seeming to cut through Will's tension cleanly and brutally.

                "My name is Will Graham. It is seven forty-eight pm and I am in Baltimore, Maryland." He couldn't help picking up the rhythm of the Doctor's words and for once was pleased his empathetic ways were echoing back something so straightforward and reassuring as Hannibal's European articulation.

                "Very good. Now, I would offer you some wine but I feel that perhaps a mind altering substance would not be on top of the list of things you would consent to ingesting at this moment." Hannibal said knowingly. He left Will's side for a moment before returning with a goblet of ice water which he pressed into the other man's hand.

                As Hannibal busied himself with the chopping of shallots and parsley to finish the sure to be delicious stew, Will chanted the words to infix himself firmly into the present. He catalogued all that he sensed of his surroundings; the coolness of the glass in his hands, the beads of condensation forming by his fingers and rolling down to drip onto his pant leg, the scent of something inviting and savory drifting towards him and the rapid, dull tattoo of Hannibal's knife against the chopping board.

                Not long after, the stew was deemed to have been cooked to perfection and ladled into bowls that were set out on Hannibal's attractive black dining table; Hannibal at the head and Will to his right. Normally they ate facing one another, but Will feared the Doctor might be wanting to keep a slightly closer eye on him at the moment and sat close enough to reach over and touch him.

                Will felt Hannibal's eyes on him and saw the Doctor in his peripheries looking over his own spoon as he brought it to his thin lips as if mirroring Will's own hand. The gaze radiated a cool beam of attention until the broth finally passed Will's lips and he felt the creamy, delicious broth wash over his palate and roll down his esophagus. An unconscious dart of his tongue to the corner of his mouth to catch any droplet that might have gone astray satisfied Hannibal's chef's pride and his attention was momentarily captured by the bob of Will's laryngeal prominence in a decidedly appealing manner. This was all the more appealing as it was aiding in nourishing Will Graham's body with only the best of foods, and proof that he was indeed accepting, most trustingly, the insidious infiltration of his body and mind.

                "This stew is good." Will said succinctly.

                A flicker of annoyance passed through Hannibal at the lack of effusive praise; if his cooking were to be considered just 'good', then he was as clueless to the proper preparation of meals as Jack Crawford was to his wife's cancer. He knew better than to take Will's comments to heart; the man was not as eloquent in his praise of gastronomy as he was in his sublime summations of the artistically homicidal criminal.

 

* * *

 

                He felt hot. His skin was bubbling and boiling under the surface as if the sweat that had not yet leaked out of his open pores was fighting to push its way out of his too hot body. He tried to roll, but was tangled in the towels he had laid down to soak up the currents of sweat which now poured from him every night. Too weak and exhausted to untangle himself, he closed his eyes tighter and tried to think cooling thoughts of swimming through the icy waters of the Chesapeake in December.

                He had just drifted off when he felt something strange. A warm, wet something sliding itself up the bottom of Will's foot. His breathing quickened and when he felt the warm, wet something slide between his toes he opened his eyes and saw the large, looming figure of the raven feathered stag with its wide, flat tongue on his foot. He blinked in confusion and the stag was gone, in its place was Winston whose large brown eyes, reflected blue from the digital clock on the bedside table, looked up at Will with concern. Another warm, wet something passed over his brow and Will realized that all of his pups had surrounded him and were wiping the sweat off of him with their tongues as if he was a salt lick.

                He sighed and petted those who were nearest to him before glancing at the clock. He mumbled to himself, "My name is Will Graham. It is five thirteen am and I am in Wolftrap, Virginia."

 

* * *

 

                "I saw the stag again." Will's confession reeked of exhaustion and fear, that combined with the sickly sweetness of the encephalitis burning his brain was an intoxicating perfume to Hannibal.

                "Have you figured out what this 'stag' seems to be representing to you?" Doctor Lecter asked leaning forwards in his chair and matching Will's pose-- elbows on knees, hands folded.

                "There is something. It is dancing in my mind, just out of my line of sight; in the peripheries. But, my mind is so hazy lately. I can't even remember what day it is. Have I been working a case? I check my phone and the call logs say that I have been talking to people, but I don't know what I have been talking about. I check my messages at the academy and students are asking to meet me for office hours about an assignment I don't remember giving. I can hear Garett Jacob Hobbs in my mind when I feel this blind and he mocks me. He mocks me with his dying words 'See? See? See?'" His voice cracks a little in the middle of his speech and he thrusts his fingers into his sweat dampened curls in frustration.

                "To have lost so much time is a very serious issue Will. I will have to report this to Jack you know." Hannibal says calmly. He won't, but Will doesn't know that.

                Will barks out a shaky laugh, "He'll be sad to know his little teacup has cracked. Sooner or later I'll stain his reputation with what drips out."

 

* * *

 

                Doctor Lecter greets him at the door in a crisp checked suit and an impeccably knotted Windsor. Will is the foil to Hannibal's groomed appearance. He is unwashed and sticky with sweat in his khakis and un-tucked flannel shirt. His shoes are caked in dried mud which flakes off leaving a trail of dust like Hansel's breadcrumbs to show him the way he has come, much to Hannibal's apparent disapproval.

                Will doesn't know what he said to the Doctor, if anything. His skin is itchy with filth and his eyes are blurred with a misty haze of exhaustion. He sits in the armchair and falls into a fitful sleep which doesn't break until he feels a hand on his shoulder and Hannibal's dulcet tones offering to drive him home. He declines and after three quick cups of the Doctor's strong Turkish coffee, he climbs into his car and drives himself back to Wolftrap.

 

* * *

 

                The tree is large and knotted. Its leaves, black in the darkness, rustle with raindrop laden wind. Will's vision is unsteady and his neck is aching. He tries to walk, but there is nothing meeting his feet. No traction, no solid ground. In his surprise he kicks and thrashes and brings his hands up to his throat and feel a thin braided rope, not twine, but silk.

                Suddenly he hits something hard and bolts up. He is on the floor next to his bed and the dogs are all staring at him with concern from their mats. Shaking from the dream--was it a dream? Will heads to the bathroom and flicks on the light. The pale blue washout of the room makes Will feel like he's in a hospital; maybe he should paint it another color. He turns on the faucet and splashes his face to try and wash off the sweat and the memories. Looking up he sees that there is a purpling bruise around his throat and a few more peppering his collar bone.

                This can't be right. That was a dream.

 

* * *

 

                Doctor Lecter greets him at the door in his well tailored pajamas and robes with a look of mild surprise. "Will, I did not expect you at...three in the morning. Is something the matter?" He says and Will rushes in to escape the uncertainty of the street for the familiarity of Hannibal's home.

                "Doctor Lecter, when I last saw you was I injured in any way?" Will asks. His voice close to crying.

                "No more than usual." Hannibal says deliberately.

                "What about now? Is there anything wrong or different about me right now?" Will tries again. His hands ghost over where he saw the bruises in his mirror, but there is no sign of the Doctor noticing them.

                "It is late Will. How about I make you a bed and we will see how you feel in the daylight?" Hannibal says calmly, guiding Will with a hand on the small of his back. Will feels the slight difference in body heat through his thin t-shirt and then notices his bare feet. He must not have gotten dressed.

 

* * *

 

               A coil of warmth is tightening in his stomach. Will arches into the warmth which palms his aching need and shudders. His eyes flutter open and he sees a body looming over his in the darkness. Before he can adjust to the pale light flickering in from the sliver of moon and the steady glow of the alarm clock on his bedside table, the figure pulls away taking the warmth and leaving Will with a t-shirt soaked in sweat and boxers soaked through with the urgent precome leaking from his erection.

 

* * *

 

               

                A warm, wet something was sliding down his thigh. "Get off Winston" Will mumbled, but the warm, wet tongue circled his kneecap and continued down his leg reaching his feet. As before, it licked up the bottom of his foot, skillfully avoiding the ticklish spots and then swirled around the big toe before licking and sucking each of the smaller ones.

                Will tried snapping his fingers, but the tongue didn't stop. His mind slowly connecting the deliberate ministrations to the twitching cock encased in his cotton shorts. This couldn't possibly be real. At least his hallucinations had decided to take a turn for the erotic over neurotic this time.

                The tongue had stopped its exploration of Will's exposed legs and now Will felt two hands gliding up the sides of his legs as a masculine weight settled itself over him and a face nuzzled his crotch. He felt the body take several deep breaths and felt the man scent him and let out a warm exhale which passed through the thin fabric and made the skin around his balls tense up in anticipation. The warm, wet tongue which had so carefully made a meal of his feet was now tasting him through his boxers. His half-hard cock began to twitch in earnest, swelling in size until it strained against the fabric. He could feel the other man's arousal pressed against his calf and he moved his leg just enough to try and reciprocate to his skillful hallucination. This obviously pleased his partner who then slid up his body further to align his hardness with Will's and rut slowly, tortuously against him.

                Now that the hallucinated lover was positioned this way, Will opened his eyes and then let out a small cry of recognition. The man above him, whose eyes bore into his and seemed to glow slightly crimson in the darkness was Doctor Lecter. Will absently wondered if this was a manifestation of his growing dependency for the man and couldn't help but notice that he had imagined a very nice physique underneath all the Doctor's trim formal wear. Hannibal's shoulders were broad and his arms well muscled. His chest had a graying thatch of hair which then trailed enticingly down into the strained pair of boxer briefs. Will himself was still fully dressed in his pajamas which consisted of a worn, slightly sweat-stained t-shirt and his now filthily soaked boxer shorts. The Hannibal above him leaned forwards and took a deep breath next to the pulse point in Will's neck and then laid a wet and heavy kiss on it. Sucking and biting down hard. Will moaned and his arms snaked around Hannibal feeling the smooth rippling muscles of his back and then moving his hands into the hair and stroking the shells of his ears with his fingertips.

                Hannibal sucked small kisses down Will's neck and then ground his hips down hard against Will's erection causing the man to throw his head back and expose his pale and vulnerable throat. The Doctor bit and scraped Will's Adam's apple, his tongue picking up the low vibrations as Will moaned and rolled his hips against his own.

                Hannibal's mouth travelled again, this time, after raising the damp t-shirt, doting upon Will's pert nipples. He took the left into his mouth and swirled his tongue around it while the right was pinched into hardness with his deft fingers. He moved down Will's ribcage and dragged his teeth down them like a perverse marimba. Reaching Will's navel, he swirled his tongue around it before darting in and making Will squirm beneath him. With the delicacy he uses to remove a perfectly risen soufflé from the oven, he slid off Will's boxers and then stared down at the man's broken, wanton pulchritude with all the ravenous anticipation of the true gourmand that he is.

                The Doctor placed the tip of his middle finger on the dark, swollen end of Will's cock and slowly, gently, pulled back. It thwacked heavily against his stomach as Hannibal let it go and said in a clinical voice, "Suspensory ligament in excellent condition."

                Will pushed his hips up needily towards the image of Hannibal and was gratified when the Doctor dipped down and circled the leaking head of his cock with the warm, wet flat of his tongue. Hannibal savored the truly human taste of the precome and used one hand to pump Will's shaft while the other slowly kneaded his aching balls. Hannibal took the whole head of Will's erection into his mouth and sucked hard. Then he licked the shaft from the base up. Will let out a deep groan of pleasure as Doctor Lecter took the whole of his length into his mouth and bobbed his head up and down while drawing patterns over it with his eloquent tongue. Switching tactics, Hannibal stroked Will slowly while bending lower to lick his testicles and draw them one at a time into his mouth and lavish the orbs with his tongue.

                The hot coil was tightening in Will and he felt Hannibal return his mouth to his cock, moving his head and fist in faster rhythms coaxing Will closer and closer to his climax. Silently, Will's body shook with his orgasm and he watched as Hannibal swallowed every last drop. Limp from his orgasm and wondering how much further this hallucination could go now that he had come, Will soon found himself with his arms pinned to his sides in the iron clench of Hannibal's muscular thighs.

                The Doctor had positioned his body so that his newly freed erection bobbed just in front of Will's face, yet out of reach. In one hand, he held his erection and in the other he held one of his silk ties like a paisley snake coiled around his forearm. Will looked up at him in awe and Hannibal returned the gaze looking deep and purposefully into Will's eyes and he licked his palm and began to stroke himself. He circled his thumb around the tender opening let out a ragged little breath, but didn't break eye contact with Will. He began pant as he stroked faster and faster and suddenly Will was feeling out of breath as well. It was then that he noticed Hannibal had somehow slipped the paisley tie around his neck and had been coiling the fabric ever tighter, rolling it around his wrist.

                Will was gasping for air, but his arms were trapped by Hannibal's thighs and the Doctor seemed to grow more and more aroused as Will struggled.  To Will, Hannibal's eyes seems to slowly take on an even truer red gleam as his own vision began to blur and he saw little golden spot pop before his eyes. As Will's eyes began to flutter shut, Hannibal released his strangle hold and let out a low guttural moan as he climaxed. Ribbons of ejaculate flew from his engorged penis and splattered Will's face and neck like the final touches on a Jackson Pollock masterpiece. Once the last drops were dribbling out of the tip of Hannibal's slowly deflating erection, he thrust his hips closer and wiped the last of his seed across Will's lips.

                His own thin lips twisted into a cool, sated smile. He flickered before Will's eyes and a looming antlered shadow superimposed him for a second and then in the next, Will found himself alone in his room completely dressed.

                He shook his head and patted his bed calling his pups to join him. The furry bodies all clambered on top of him and created a nest of safety for him to try and grasp those last few hours of sleep he could get before his alarm went off.

 

* * *

 

                Will was shoving his folders into his briefcase when he heard the familiar clicking of Alana Bloom's high heels as she entered his lecture hall. He blinked nervously behind his glasses and raised a hand in greeting.  
  
                "Will! What on earth happened to you?" She gasped bringing a hand to her neck. Will mimicked the action and realized that Alana must see what he had seen.

 

                But how could she see it if it never really happened?


End file.
